


Be Still, My [Ineffable] Friend, You Are Unbreaking

by WildnessBecomesYou



Series: Music is Not the Food of Love, but the Messenger [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Everything is soft, Fluff, M/M, armageddon't, hand holding, i'm SOFT, it's again kind of between fluff and angst, mostly these boys are so soft and hozier is soft and i am soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: And the stench of the sea and the absence of greenAre the death of all things that are seen and unseenNot an end, but the start of all things that are left to doWasteland, babyI'm in love, I'm in love with youThat's itCrowley stops time at the end of the world. Aziraphale slows it, because he needs a moment.





	Be Still, My [Ineffable] Friend, You Are Unbreaking

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm Soft.jpg]
> 
> I heard the song and immediately imagined these two idiot husbands at the end of the world together and now I hurt juuuuuust a little
> 
> (Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier. I hope you enjoy <3)

Crowley would choose this, only this, every single time. 

Even if it meant slinking to that same bar, already drunk from grief. Even if it meant the sinking sense of oh-Someone-it’s-you as the ghost of his friend shimmered in front of him. Even if it meant the fear that his angel would be torn from him again all too soon. Even if it was Madame Tracy’s body that Aziraphale inhabited. 

He was in love with the angel, and had been from the moment humanity left the Garden. 

And, East of Eden, was his best friend. 

Well, technically, they were West of Eden right now. Crowley briefly wondered if that’s why Aziraphale had chosen London, to get away from the title he once held. 

He let the thought flicker by. 

Crowley unfroze time, but Aziraphale did not let it go completely. 

“Angel,” Crowley sighed, looking over his friend tiredly. 

“Not yet, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley watched as the angel lowered his sword, looking far too tired for what they were about to do. “I just need…” 

“We don’t have much time.” Crowley let it tumble out of his mouth without hesitation. It was the truth. Even if Aziraphale had slowed time, he hadn’t stopped it. Couldn’t stop it. 

“I know, Crowley, I just…” the angel drifted off again, head hanging. Crowley watched him, so different than the proud and puffed up Aziraphale he knew. 

And then Aziraphale reached for his hand. Crowley breathed in sharply as Aziraphale finished his phrase. “I need a moment here with you.”

“Okay.”

Without Adam between them, Aziraphale’s hand was warm and soft. He had held Aziraphale’s hand before. The angel liked holding hands, actually, liked the simple intimacy of it, but this felt different. The tiny smile on the angel’s face did not hide the shaking of his hand or the tremble of his wings. 

“I do believe, my dear devil,” the angel murmured, “that it has taken the end of the world to realize just how long I have been in love with you.” 

Crowley blinked as Aziraphale stepped closer. “Uh. Just. Just out of curiosity, how long would that be?” 

Aziraphale laughed, fingers slipping from Crowley’s to brush at the side of Crowley’s jeans. “I’ve been aware of it since 1941, but I’m sure it started before that.” 

Without thinking, Crowley let his head fall to rest against Aziraphale’s, forehead to curls. He was sure he was shaking at this point, too. He distantly registered that Aziraphale had dropped the flaming sword to press a hand against Crowley’s stomach. His hand found it’s way back from Crowley’s jeans to his fingers. 

“You don’t have to say it.” They shook, gently, quietly. “I know.” 

“If—“ Crowley stuttered on his words again. He cleared his throat and swept his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale was patient. “If we get out of this, I—“

Aziraphale nuzzled against his chest, and he could feel it ripping open. 

“We don’t have time,” Crowley finished, hushed, letting the promises of picnics and beach days and a cottage in South Downs die on his lips. 

“I know,” Aziraphale sighed. He pulled away and Crowley mourned the loss of contact, hoped there would be more of this. The angel picked up his flaming sword, considered it a moment, and turned back to Crowley. “You have…” he sighed, a small smile crinkling the lines by his eyes. “You have left quite the mark on me, my dear.” 

Crowley could not speak. Instead, he offered a hand to the angel. Aziraphale took his hand, bent a moment to place a kiss to his knuckles, and then his hands and his lips were gone. 

They stood on either side of Adam, facing the End of the World.


End file.
